The Geek Girl and the Scandalous Earl (27 page)

But it was impossible to apologize to an empty chair and have it mean something.

***

Micah had thought that by finishing the note to Miss Lyons, he’d feel better. He was wrong. Walking quickly and quietly, he left his estate room and gave the letter to Thornton, with instructions to have it delivered right away. As he ascended the stairs to his bedchamber, the feeling in his gut was akin to the first time he’d gone to Gentleman Jackson’s salon to learn to fight. He’d come away bruised and aching for a week. This was much worse than that. He dressed in eveningwear once he reached his bedchamber, knotting his cravat in a careless, hopeless tangle. He would meet Felicity in the morning, propose marriage, and that would be the end of it. He hoped that Jamie would leave before then, but he knew, as he pulled on his greatcoat and headed out into the night, he would be forced to break her heart once more. It was easier to break her heart than it would be to see her die.

***

Another two hours went by as Jamie sat at the piano. She played Mike’s song over and over, hoping it would reach him, wherever he was, whatever he was doing. Was he thinking of her? Was he wondering about her like she was wondering about him? It wasn’t fair for her to expect him to be there, not when she’d hurt him so badly. She’d have to give him time.

Jamie closed her eyes, played his song, and wished with everything in her that he were there to hear it.

***

At White’s, Micah sat in the corner, nursing another brandy. The last gentleman to speak to him had received a curt nod, nothing more, and so the rest of the jovial crowd had learned to keep its distance from the brooding earl. Micah swirled the liquor around in his glass. Was she gone? He hoped she was. He did not want to face her after she’d learned what he’d done. Proposing to another woman would break her heart irrevocably, he knew it for certain. But it was the only way.

Draining his drink, he beckoned to the waiting footman for another. It would be a long night, and he had no intention of spending it sober.

***

It was after midnight when Jamie gave up and headed upstairs for bed. The beautiful white gown went back into the wardrobe, unseen by the man that she’d worn it for. She paced the hallways, her nightgown billowing behind her like a ghost’s shroud. She felt kind of like a ghost—achy, empty, and so alone that it hurt.

When the clock downstairs bonged three in the morning, she admitted to herself what she’d really known all along—Mike had no intention of coming home, not tonight. She headed to her bedroom, her sore ankle even more painful from the hours of fruitless wandering she’d done.

She climbed into bed, and Baron snuggled against her, but it wasn’t the same. She missed her earl, and her stupid heart wouldn’t beat right again until he came back and things were right between them. If they ever could be.

Jamie barely slept a wink. In the dim firelight, she watched Baron’s sides rise and fall with his breaths. Time wasn’t her friend when it kept her and Mike apart.
But
tomorrow’s another day,
her heart whispered.
You
can
try
again
tomorrow.

Fat
chance,
her brain snorted
. You’ve lost him forever, you selfish bitch. Good job.

***

When Muriel came in to wake Jamie the next morning, her thin face was even paler than usual. She set Jamie’s chocolate down on the bedside table without saying a word and went straight over to the wardrobe without looking toward the bed.

“Mur?” Jamie called, sitting up. “What is it?”

The maid pulled out a taupe-colored gown, the most drab thing that Jamie had ever seen her select. Muriel’s bottom lip quivered as she brushed the fabric out, hanging the dress on the door of the wardrobe.

“Muriel?” Jamie got out of bed and crossed the room to her side, really worried now. “Is something wrong?”

Muriel shook her head quickly. Too quickly for it to be the truth. She busied herself in the basket of hair ribbons, holding up different colors against the brownish fabric.

“Hey, you can talk to me. What’s up?”

The maid let out a shuddering breath before turning to Jamie and blurting out, “His lordship has proposed to Miss Lyons!”

With those words, Jamie’s whole world shifted.

Mike had proposed to another woman? Her Mike? The one who’d said he loved her and wanted her to marry him? He was going to marry someone else? He’d promised her. He’d proposed to her. He’d asked her to be his countess, and now that pale, blond, annoying girl was going to marry him instead?

He’d taken it back. He’d said he was calling off the engagement, and he’d done it in the most irrevocable way that he could.

By proposing to another woman.

There
is
nothing
to
wait
for.

Her throat closed off, her eyes burned, and nausea boiled in her gut.

She tried to contain it, she really did. She paced in front of the fireplace, desperately trying to ignore the brokenhearted sobs of the teenaged maid behind her.

It was too much. She had to get out of there. She had to get some air.

“Muriel, help me throw something on quick, please. I need to get out of here for a little while.”

With eyes filled with tears, Muriel nodded. Jamie couldn’t look at her again. She was barely hanging on to her own.

Baron seemed to know something was really wrong with Jamie. He stuck right with her as she threw on her clothes with Muriel’s help, and even walked with her down the stairs. She grabbed the leash that Thornton held out to her with knowing eyes, and she and the hound walked out the front door.

The sunny day seemed to mock the sludge-like depression that had overtaken her chest. Every breath was like a fresh knife in her poor bruised and battered heart. Baron stayed close to her side, not even chasing a bird that landed in front of them on the walk. She ignored people’s happy laughter and chatter as the elegantly dressed strangers rode their horses and carriages down the street.

It was the same. Logan, Mike, it was the same. Things were great, wonderful, perfect, and then Jamie wanted more and they got lost. Big time. Granted, Logan and Mike couldn’t be more different. Logan hadn’t wanted the house and picket fence that Jamie had been planning. But Mike knew her. The
real
her. He didn’t seem to have any problem with the thought of matrimony. And he’d proposed to her, said he loved her. She’d thought they wanted the same things. So why did they fall apart?

Baron pulled a little on the leash, whining slightly. “Calm down, boy,” Jamie said, petting his ears. “It’s okay.”

He pulled harder, whines growing louder. “What is it?” She knelt beside him, hugging the long neck. “What’s wrong?”

She scratched his silky ears, looking up in the direction his long nose pointed in.

Collette.

Her heart froze solid as she took in the white horse, the feathered cap, and the look of complete rage on the woman’s face. The note from Marilyn. She’d forgotten. It hadn’t been from her friend; it had been from a psychotic, jealous bitch with no qualms about murder. Jamie was in serious, serious danger.

“Baron,” she whispered, backing up slowly, “we’ve gotta go.”

Jamie turned, keeping a tight hold on the hound’s leash. She didn’t have a weapon with her, and the look on Collette’s face was proof enough that she was completely prepared to succeed today where her previous plans had failed. If Jamie didn’t get out of there fast, she was as good as dead.

Jamie quickened her pace. Baron had to break into a trot to keep up. She was within sight of the house. Only a few more yards, and they’d be safe. The street that had been lined with people five minutes earlier was curiously empty now.

The hoofbeats came behind them fast. She barely had time to turn around before the big white horse was upon them. The animal’s chest crashed into her shoulder. It threw her down, yanking Baron’s leather lead out of her hand. Gasping, she curled up instinctively. Flashing hooves passed perilously close to her head.

It was over almost faster than it began, the big white horse wheeling around for another pass.

“Oy!” She heard someone shout. “What have you done?”

The white horse disappeared down the street, frantic footsteps chasing after it.

It took several seconds for her brain to process the greyhound’s cries of pain.

“Baron!” Jamie screamed, scrambling over to him.

The skin of his back leg was shredded, almost peeled back like an orange. His leg had to be broken. Blood was everywhere, splattering his beautiful blue-gray coat. His eyes were frantic, wild with agony. He tried to get up, his paws scrambling on the blood-slicked cobbles, but the pain was too much for him, and he fell back to the cold stones. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she held his head in her lap.

“No, Baron, baby, relax. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay,” she sobbed, trying to keep him calm.

Think, Jamie! Think!

This backward time didn’t have a damn thing that could help him. The only person with any kind of medical ability she knew was Mrs. Knightsbridge, but unless the witch had a spell for healing broken bones and restoring lost blood, that was a bust. With the way the normally quiet hound cried out, she knew he was in excruciating pain. He needed a vet or he’d almost certainly die. In an instant, she knew exactly where she could find help for her friend.

As gently as she could, she slid her arms beneath him. He yelped in agony as his injured leg was jostled.

“I’m so sorry, baby, just hang on,” she said, panic and tears clogging her throat.

The dog had to weigh seventy pounds, but fear and adrenaline made her strong. She carried him back to the house as fast as she could, screaming at the top of her lungs for Mrs. Knightsbridge.

Thornton threw open the door, his face going pale at the sight of Jamie and the injured dog. She pushed past the butler, carrying a still-howling Baron up the stairs.

“Wilhelmina!” Jamie yelled through her tears. “Get up here and open this damn portal right now!”

Mrs. K ran up the stairs behind her. Jamie turned, still clutching Baron’s body against her. He’d gone limp from the pain.

“You need to open it
now
,” Jamie screamed at Mrs. Knightsbridge. “I have to get him to a vet. That bitch Collette broke his goddamn leg!”

Mrs. K nodded, tears streaming down her own face. She petted Baron’s side gently, then stooped to the floor beside the bureau. Jamie stood in front of it as the witch muttered in an odd-sounding language.

Seconds later, the gold around the edges glinted.
It’s time.

Jamie let Mrs. K hold Baron as she climbed through the mirror feet first. When Jamie reached back for the hound, the housekeeper stopped her.

“I cannot open the portal this way again for quite a while. The fabric of time is too worn here. But when I can, I will send Micah to you,” she whispered.

“He doesn’t want me anymore,” Jamie replied. She took Baron’s limp weight and slid out of the mirror into a screaming-hot storage building.

The truck was still parked in front of the open storage building. The keys still dangled from the switch. Jamie laid Baron on the seat beside her as gently as she could, tied a clean towel around his back leg to slow the bleeding, threw the truck in drive, and hightailed it for the nearest vet clinic.

She watched him out of the corner of her eye the whole way. His ribs moved shallowly, breaths blowing ragged in the quiet of the truck’s cab. “Stay with me, boy,” she murmured, turning as quickly as she could without slinging both of them off the bench seat. The clinic was only five minutes away, but it felt like five years before she parked crookedly in the handicapped space and cut the engine. Baron lifted his head as she opened the passenger door to pick him up again. He whined pitifully, pawing at her hand.

“Hold on, baby, please hold on.” Her voice was ragged with emotion.

An elderly couple walked out the door of the clinic as Jamie struggled up the walk with Baron cradled in her arms. The sight of her tearstained face and the bloody, injured hound in her arms galvanized them into action.

“Bobby, hold this door for her! Now!” The gray-haired woman flew into the clinic, and Jamie nodded gratefully at the man holding the door for her.

“Get somebody out here now! This dog is hurt bad!” The elderly woman banged on the desk as Jamie rounded the corner with Baron. The receptionist took one wide-eyed look at her and ran to the back of the clinic.

The techs inside didn’t even look twice at Jamie’s odd dress and hat; they just put Baron on a stretcher and took him straight back. Jamie collapsed on a sea-green pleather cushion and sobbed her broken heart out, rubbing at the bloodstains on her dress ineffectually. The elderly couple patted her on the shoulder reassuringly and left her with the clinic staff.

A receptionist brought Jamie a box of tissues. “Here,” she said, rubbing her back. “He’ll be okay. We’ve got some of the best doctors in the state here. You’ve got to believe.”

Jamie nodded, holding the tissue up to her face. She couldn’t lose Baron. She’d already lost Mike; she couldn’t lose that silly dog too. She loved him, almost as much as she loved the guy that had saved him from certain death in the first place.

“Can you answer some questions for me, hon?” The redheaded receptionist’s voice was kind but direct. She had a job to do, and hysterics wouldn’t help a damn thing, especially not the hound who was in pain in the back of the clinic.

“Yeah, whatever you need,” Jamie said through her tears, trying to get it together.

“What’s your dog’s name?”

Jamie started to tell the receptionist that he wasn’t her dog, but then she realized that Mike had been dead for probably a hundred and fifty years or more at that point. She couldn’t explain what the sudden spurt of tears was about, but the receptionist rubbed her back until she could speak again.

“Baron,” Jamie whispered. “His name is Baron.”

“Okay. Baron. And he’s a greyhound, right? How old is he?”

“About a year,” Jamie said, trying like hell not to think of the man who’d told her that.

“And how was he injured?” The redheaded woman didn’t look up at Jamie as she continued to write on her little green clipboard.

Come
on, Jamie. Tell as much of the truth as you can without getting thrown into a loony bin.
She swallowed hard and mentally thanked Leah for her SCA days.

“We were at a Renaissance Faire, and a horse from the jousting section got loose and took off. It knocked us both down, and it must have stepped on his leg or something.”

“Wow, that must have been scary.”

“You have no idea.” Jamie laughed a little hysterically and wiped her nose with the wad of damp tissues.

“Okay, let me get this info to Dr. Vann. We’ll let you know something soon, okay?” The receptionist gave Jamie a reassuring smile and a pat on the shoulder.

Jamie glanced at her clipboard as she turned it to walk away. According to the time she’d written at the top of the sheet, three hours had passed in this time since Jamie had been gone. Mrs. K apparently hadn’t been that exact in her time-portation calibrating. It didn’t matter though; at least, it wouldn’t if Baron made it out of this okay.

Jamie paced through the waiting room, desperate to hear something. Other people came and went with their animals. Several of them gave her curious glances. She ignored them all, walking and crying and even praying. He had to be okay. He just had to be.

A full hour later, a tech escorted her into an examination room for the doctor to talk to her. When the vet came in, he propped two X-rays on the lighted box on the wall. Jamie hoped he was competent. He looked like he didn’t need to shave yet.

“Hey, Jamie, I’m Doctor Vann. We’ve been working with Baron. He’s pretty lucky.”

“Really?” Jamie said, tears welling again. “Is he going to be okay?”

“He should make a full recovery. We were worried about the possibility of a fracture, but it looks like a really bad skin injury. It occurred with a horse, you say?”

She nodded.

“It seems like either a nail or part of the horse’s shoe caught on his skin as it passed over him. Since these guys have such thin skin, it just kind of peels back. Looks horrible, bloody as all get-out, but with some stitches, it should heal okay. He lost a lot of blood, though. You must have had to come a ways to get here.”

“You have no idea,” Jamie said, shaking her head.

“We gave him a transfusion, and he’s being treated with some antibiotics. He’s really lucky. If that horse had stepped on him instead of knocking him down, it might be a very different story. We’ll keep him overnight, finish up the stitching, but as long as we can avoid infection, he should make a full recovery.”

Jamie hugged the too-young doctor and sobbed into the shoulder of his white lab coat. “Thank you so much. You don’t know how much that dog means to me.”

He patted her back and let her cry for a second, then pulled back.

“He’s awake. Would you like to see him before you go home? We’re giving him IV fluids and some pain medication right now.”

She nodded. “I’d like that.”

Their steps echoed on the concrete flooring as she followed the vet to a room in the back. Several shiny metal kennels lined the walls, most of them with IV bags and tubing hanging from the doors. Dr. Vann knelt by one of the largest ones and opened the gate.

Jamie crawled up to Baron and rubbed his silky head.

“Hey, bud. Are you getting some good drugs there?” Her throat welled again. “You stay strong for me. I need you. I’ll be here first thing in the morning to see you, okay?”

He licked her hand softly.

“I love you, you stupid dog,” Jamie sobbed. After dropping a kiss on his nose, she stood, wiping her tears with her sodden tissues. “Thanks, Doc. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

He nodded and had one of the techs show her out.

Jamie left her home number at the front desk. Her smartphone was still in 1816. She’d probably never see it again.

She got back in the truck and headed back to the storage building, wondering how the hell she was going to explain any of this to Pawpaw Milton; how in the hell she was going to sleep tonight, worrying about Baron; and how the hell she was going to live without Mike.

***

Pawpaw was at the storage building when Jamie got back. His wiry, gray-bearded jaw dropped at the sight of her bloodstained taupe walking dress.

“What in the hell has been going on here? What are you wearing, girl?”

Jamie shook her head at him. “It’s a long story. You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.” She pointed at the back corner of the storage building. “How much for that bureau?”

“What in the world do you want that for? That thing is two hundred years old.”

She sighed and raked stray pieces of hair behind her ear. “I know. Chippendale. 1816. I need it. How much?”

Pawpaw argued with her for a long time, but she refused to take no for an answer. Eventually, he gave in and sold her the bureau on a payment plan. She didn’t even raise her eyebrows at the price. She’d have to either sell some more music soon or take a job at a fast-food joint to afford it. She didn’t know antique furniture could cost so much, but she couldn’t stand the thought of someone else having the bureau that Mrs. Knightsbridge had brought her through to meet Mike. She knew he’d never come. Even if he would give up on the earldom, he’d made a promise to Miss Lyons now. Engagements weren’t usually broken as quickly as theirs had been. Besides, she’d nearly gotten his dog killed and then taken his beloved hound away from him forever. Mike was sure to hate her now, and honestly, she sort of felt like he deserved to.
I
kind
of
hate
me
too.

Pawpaw arranged to have some guys help him deliver the bureau later that afternoon. Jamie thanked him, then headed on home to change and clear out a space for it.

Where the hell was she going to put a giant piece of antique furniture, anyway? It didn’t matter. It was staying with her for the rest of her life. The rest of her lonely, godforsaken, miserable life.

It took forever to shed the layers of her clothing without Muriel’s help. She ended up ripping buttons on the back of her bloodstained dress. The corset was much the same. Petticoats with red-brown spotted blood pooled on her deep-gray tiles. The bloomers that she’d hated so much looked ridiculous on top of them.

Jamie stood naked in front of her bathroom mirror and removed the brown-feathered cap. She pulled out hairpins and let the mess fall where it would.

There.

My
name
is
Jamie.

Whoever
the
hell
that
is.

She didn’t enjoy the shower she took. She cried through the whole thing. Shaving her legs, her underarms, applying deodorant, using the hair dryer—all of it made her even more depressed.

When she came downstairs to answer the knock, she was finishing a crying binge. Leah took one look at her and hustled her into the kitchen for a private conversation while Pawpaw Milton and his movers positioned the bureau next to her computer.

“What the hell happened to you, James? Pawpaw said you took his truck and you came back dressed in some kind of fancy old getup?”

Jamie looked at the ceiling. “That’s not the half of it.”

Leah sat down, giving her the “spill the beans or I will kill you” eye.

Jamie sighed and sat at the table beside her best friend. She never said a word during Jamie’s long story; she just let her get it all out. When the movers were done, Leah said a quick word to Pawpaw, and the men left quietly out the front door without talking to her. When Jamie resumed sobbing, Leah grabbed a roll of paper towels and handed her a wad. Jamie finished the story, right up to rushing Baron to the vet, and Leah nodded.

“So, now’s probably the part where you tell me I’m completely insane, right?” Jamie sniffed as she wiped her eyes.

Leah shook her head. “Nope. But I am going to call you a dumbass.”

Jamie’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“You had a Colin Firth–lookalike earl interested in you, and you didn’t drag him back here with you? What the fuck?”

“I tried, but he wouldn’t listen to me…”

“You should have made him.”

Jamie rolled her eyes. “I tried. He was sure that he’d failed me, and no matter what I said, he wouldn’t listen. Besides, he doesn’t love me anymore.” She tried to stifle more tears, but they kept right on coming.
My
tear
factory: powered by Energizer.

Leah’s palms splatted down on the table. “I don’t believe that for a second. So, your lady is a witch, and she knows you’re both in love, right?”

Jamie nodded, wiping her dripping nose.

“We’ll have to keep watch on that big old piece of furniture then. Hopefully your housekeeper witch will confess the truth, shove him through the mirror into your living room, and everything will be good from there.”

Jamie hugged Leah close, breathing in the familiar vanilla and coconut smell of her. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Hey, don’t cry. You’d do the same for me. Now, come on.” Leah’s chair scraped back and she grabbed Jamie’s arm. “Let’s clear out this living room so Mike doesn’t think he’s landed in the city dump.”

With the help of the best friend in the world, Jamie cleaned out her living room. She even threw a blanket over that ugly-ass couch Logan had picked out, to make it look more like the living room she’d set up for her and Mike’s first date. They did laundry, threw out garbage, and put all Jamie’s comics and magazines in the spare bedroom. At nearly eleven, Leah took off, after a promise to stay at Jamie’s house in the morning, just in case Mike showed up while she was with Baron at the vet.

Jamie cleaned up the kitchen when Leah had gone. Jamie didn’t even recognize most of the junk that she had accumulated. It was awful, gross. And so cold. She turned the A/C off completely and opened the windows to let the summer-night breeze in. She felt nearly naked in her shorts and T-shirt, but she kept on cleaning. Mind-numbing chores were the only thing she could stomach at that point.

At two in the morning, she heard a noise coming from the living room. Her heart leapt into her throat, and she ran to see what it was.

There was nobody and nothing in her now-clean living room. Her computer had received a new IM from Kurt. She’d missed tonight’s dungeon run.

Jamie shook her head and walked away without replying.

By six o’clock that morning, the kitchen was clean, her bathroom was spotless, and the garbage man was going to be cursing her name for years to come. The vet clinic would open at seven, so she hightailed it upstairs to get ready.

She reached into the shower to turn it on, but she stopped before her fingers touched the metal knob. Instead, she grabbed a washcloth and a bar of soap from the bowl of seashell-shaped “guest soaps” that had previously been only for show. She ran some water in the tub, which had rarely ever been used. She stepped into the bath, closed her eyes, and wished she was in a tiny copper tub in a lemon dream of a bedroom, readying herself for a phaeton ride in the park with her love.